My Name Was Ottoman Empire
by Dark Glass01
Summary: Sometimes, old men dreg up their old memories. Turkey tells his young protectorate the story of his glorious youth; friends made and lost along the way, changes he's been through, and bridges he's burned behind him... and a partner's grave. Ottoman Empire. Updated sporadically.
1. Chp I: Poppa Turkey

**Author Notes: Not feeling up to anything major today. Considering the stories I'm writing, I just thought I'd have something less major sitting around that I can update on my lazy days. So, here it is, enjoy.**

**Prolouge: Poppa Turkey**

Sometimes, Turkey couldn't help but remember.

It was always the little things. That wift of smoke rising from the chimney could unwillingly echo with the sound of musket fire. A kettle clattering to the dirt would sound with the echos of a thousand war drums, or the morning fog a veil over his eyes. And, if that wasn't bad enough, those memories always lead him to the same place; standing before the Topekia Palace, forlornly staring into the structure.

It had been one of those afternoons today, and though he'd long since retired to his house, sitting in front of a roaring fire, resting back on his crimson chair and ottoman, he still couldn't relax, his brow furrowed as he watched the sparks hop and fizzle.

"Poppa Turkey," he heard a soft rap on the door, looking up from his thoughts and rubbing away at an old ache on his thighs. "Poppa Turkey, may I come in?"

Turkey pushed himself up from his seat, pushing back his hair. "Hmmm?" his voice still sounded as though he was deep in thought. "Come in," he informed the person outside his room, looking up at the old set of flintlocks crossed on his mantlepiece. "The door's unlocked."

The old wood creaked a bit on its hinges as the light from the hallway flooded into the shadowed room, a small shape silhouetted as it slowly entered, closing the door behind it. "Poppa Turkey," the boy said, his firelight dancing off his olive skin. "Gul said I could find you in here. Is everything alright?" TRNC finally could be seen as he walked into the main light, looking up at Turkey's face with legitimate concern.

"Oh, it's you." Turkey remained distant, only spring a glance down at his adoptive ward before returning to his musing, TRNC inching closer. "Ya, I'm fine. Just feeling a bit melancholy, that's all." Still, there was a deeper seriousness to his voice then that, gently adjusting his cap so his bangs could hang down. "So," he finally pulled himself away, walking up and giving the boy a playful rub on that head. "What can I do for you?"

The child shuffled his feet for a moment, gently pushing his hat back from its lopsided position. "I just had a simple question for you," his voice stayed monotonous, though his curiosity was clear on his face. "Greece threatened me earlier today." he paused for a moment, Turkey looking down to comfort him. "And when I mentioned you, he didn't call you Turkey. He said you were, Ottoman Empire." The young nation's tounge seemed to stumble over the strange word, Turkey's eyes growing downcast and deep. "So, I was wondering, what did he mean?"

The old man's gentle smile faded as he sterned his face, placing a hand on the child's shoulder and leading him over to the chair, pulling him onto his lap and slowly removing his mask, setting it on a chairside table with an old worn book, turning his eyes into the fire. "Ya, he's right." Turkey admitted, shrugging. "They used to call me Ottoman Empire... and boy, those were the days," the nostalgia clearly creeped into his voice as he tapped the fingers of his left hand into the armrest. "Back then, Greece wouldn't dare yell at you. Germany, France, even Russia feared me, the way my sword would dance over thought the air." He chuckled at himself, turning to the boy. "You want to hear that story?" He watched TRNC's face light up slightly, something he hadn't seen in a long time.

"I would," was the simple response.

"Well then," the Turk tossed another stick into the fire, watching the blaze flare up for a moment before he began. "You listen to your old dad now. It was a long time ago... not long after Mongolia was born. Though, to be honest, it really didn't start the way she did. The first thing I remember was a dream..."


	2. Chp II: A Brief Chibi Hetalia History

**Author Notes: Well, I feel like a little Chibi Hetalia history lesson is called for first.**

**Chp. I: Chibi Hetalia; Eastern Europe.**

**- Narraration-**

"Alright, I'm sure you've heard the story of the great Roman Empire. Long ago... I think China is the only nation alive who's saw him face to face, in his prime, he ruled the Mediterranean, slaying many strong nations who stood before him; Carthage, Phoenicia, Celtica, among others. Some, the beautiful women, he took as concubines, and allowed their culture to thrive; Ancient Egypt and Ancient Greece. In fact, his love for Ancient Greece was so great that, in his infatuation, he built a grand summer palace for him to live in, so they could always be together; the warrior and his muse."

"In time, during his long months their, Ancient Greece bore her conquerer a son; a strong-chinned, regal boy named Byzantium. Rome loved his son deeply, playing with him when he could, slowly guiding the boy as he grew into nation of his own. Byzantium really took after his father; he was a leader, a builder, a brilliant military tactician. But, he also managed to get some of his mother's restraint and spirituality, his house slowly starting to look less and less like his fathers."

"Then, one day, Roman Empire just disappeared, leaving his son to look after what few brother had remained loyal to him. Though his was still a mighty nation, Byzantium never got over his father's disappearance, constantly leaving home to sail Europe in search of him. However, all he caught where occasional glimpses, and as time went on even these grew less and less."

"In his absence, though, came another issue; just to the south of his yard, another nation was wandering the desert, dark, unrefined, but with a stout heart. Within a relatively short time, though, he sprouted to full size, leading his people into Byzantium's land, flying a strange new banner; a crescent. Byzantium bulked under the pressure, and while he went out to fight valiantly, he did so in vain; soon, Egypt and Iraq didn't live in his house anymore, and where embracing the teachings of this new nation; Arabia.

"This is when Ottoman Empire's ancestors, the Turks, wandered in to Asia Minor from the east, fighting as mercenaries for either Byzantium or Arabia. For a time, some of them even lived in Arabia's house, The Caliphate, who's shadow hung over Byzantium each and every day, alongside his few remaining siblings. In time, the different members of The Caliphate left, going to live in their own homes, but the damage had been done; though still vibrant, Byzantium's lands were filled with turmoil and backstabbing, the pains slowly aging the boy until he was just a fraction of his former self, spending most of his time huddled in his villa, Constantinople.

"Then, of course, Palestine had the bright idea to wander into Byzantium's yard and spend some time in a small chapel he had, praising his own god in it instead. Byzantium, when he heard of this, decided it was time to appeal to his half-brothers; France, Holy Roman Empire, and England. So, the three of them wandered through the yard, bickering all the way before, miraculously, they managed to beat up Palestine and Egypt and take the chapel back. Of course, even though they'd promised Byzantium they'd give it back, the three of them decided it'd be better if they kept it for themselves, setting up a short-lived child called Jerusalem in charge, only to watch him get flattened and dragged about for about a hundred years. And, when Byzantium protested, France promptly sailed over with Venice, beat the crap out of him, and locked him away in a dungeon for a few years. After he got out, Byzantium discovered he really didn't have much left; one of his arms was broken, his yard was getting slowly taken from all sides, and his only dependable brother, Greece, was as helpful as a box of rocks. So, regal and well-minded as he was, he could do little but sit in his home, trying as best he could to keep his faltering people together."

"And this, this is where Ottoman Empire was born."

-**Part II: Meet the nations!-**

This is Byzantium. At this point, his face is starting to look very much like an old man's. He's quite handsome, however, if you look at his core, bearing a strong resemblance to his father Roman Empire in many respects. He wears the same armor (if a purple cape), and keeps a thin beard like he did, and is never seen without his sword. His left arm, however, hangs uselessly to his side. When he was a young boy, he was extremely brave, but as of late has grown cowardly and deceitful, paranoid of being outplayed by anybody again.

Then we have Rum. To be honest, the man looks a lot like Ottoman Empire does in his later years; tall, well set, though his clothing is a traditionally red robe and he doesn't wear a mask, revealing his cold, hard eyes. His skin is also signficantly darker. Rum is a violent, but pious man, with a soft spot for animals and a love of sport, holding good to his word even when Byzantium does not. He's been the one picking away at Byzantium's backyard for awhile now, though he's gotten trounced on more then one occasion and still has a deep respect for Byzantium's power.

Venice, while she doesn't live in the area, quite enjoys visiting the local shops and owns a number herself, as well as having cabins on several of the islands. One of Roman Empire's youngest daughters, she doesn't have the heart of her father, but she does have a good head on her shoulders, especially where politics and numbers are concerned. Though not known for her religious faith, as several others are, she quite enjoys swimming and the arts, and makes friends with as many people as she can. Though she one had a warm relationship with Byzantium, after she helped France pillage his home the two have been very distant. Venice is Mediterranean colored, with flowing black hair and sea-blue eyes, alongside a lithe figure.

Her little brother, Genoa, also is a common visitor to this region, though he's not a huge fan of Venice. He's certainly not as manipulative as her, and generally more stable, though he's constantly trying to bite off more then he can chew. Also, he's not quite as rich as Venice is, after a few debacles. However, he knows what he's doing and, in time, hopes to one-up his big sister. Genoa looks a lot like Venice does, though shorter and stouter, and he styles his hair like France.

Golden Horde is the rather bossy big boy who, while his home is far to the north, likes to come in and cause trouble in the region from time to time. As Mongolia's oldest son, he sees himself as the boss of all his little brothers, including Crimea, and keeps them on a somewhat tight leash. He wears his hair in a long ponytail, dark black, and has extremely dark skin and strong muscles, rarely seen off horseback. His hobbies primarily include bullying countries weaker than himself, including Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and, well, everybody else, but he's also been known to smoke marijuana and hunt quite a bit.

Greece, living in Byzantium's house, is slightly less lazy than he is today, but still quite a bit of a ditz, sort of an absentminded professor. He doesn't look too much different, though he wears the same cloths s Byzantium, and admires him greatly.

Cyprus , actually one of Jerusalem's adopted brothers, lives just south of Rum, and is actually quite terrified of him, though he'll never admit it. He styles himself as Jerusalem born again, with all the Christian regalia and titles, and constantly speaks of returning to resurrect his adoptive brother, but never seems to bother going that far to fight Eygpt, ordinary just visiting with Venice or Byzantium. He's actually just a little past being a child, hair dishwater blonde and messy, thin if well-muscled, and a constantly pipped look to his face. Very religious, very stubborn, and quick to take insult to his honor, he's a somewhat annoying neighbor, but when you're in a pinch he's willing to help. Good friends with England

Egypt is, arguably, currently the greatest power in the region (barring the Golden Horde), looking little different then he does in the modern day, though his cloths are a rich white and he actually bothers to talk from time to time. Generally speaking, he has a rivalry with Rum, as they disagree over some matters of ritual in their religions. He quite enjoys messing around with Byzantium's old chapel, which has been a Mosque for many, many years. A small nation, Palistine, currently serves in his house, and is actually relatively quite, going what he's told.

-To be continued

**Greetings, Baba, have some coffee. Hello Anne, hello Anne. For some reason I just crave the taste of the luxurious Manti we had before**

**See this circle? That's the world**

**Look again, it's still the world.**

**At any point complete the world, I'm Ottoman Empire!**

**Watch, as I display it, it's splendor in one simple stroke.**

**Uniting East and West, Crescent and Cross. From Osman's dream!**


	3. Chp III: Osman's Dream

**Author Notes: Alright, I'm just having too much fun with this. **

**Chp II: Osman's Dream.**

Ottoman Empire hadn't seen anything like it before.

Well, to be perfectly fair, he hadn't seen ANYTHING before; before this moment, he knew he hadn't even existed. However, what he was seeing now would have been an impressive sight for even the eldest of nations, a wonder beyond anything that could possibly exist.

What he saw was a tree; a massive, thick tree, covering the land he now found himself standing upon with a leafy shade, the sunlight creeping in just enough to give it a sort of magical glow. The branches reached out in hundreds of different directions, limbs strong and fruitful, the roots crawling just under the surface to the lands of three different continents; Africa, Asia, and Europe. The four largest of these roots each had running out of it a clear, bountiful river, water crystals and fish leaping, two running alongside each other, one through a great desert, and the other down a hilly field. He could also see, at the edges of the branches, the snow-capped peaks of mountain ranges, almost invisible compared to the tree he stood beneath. _What could this be? _ he thought to himself as he reached out to touch it, his new fingers feeling strange as they curled out into an open palm.

The trunk of the tree was dry and rough, but strong toughening his hand as he rubbed over it, trying to understand what it was. There was a smell to it too... he wasn't quite sure what it was, but he liked it, spicy and tingling. It seemed to capture all of his attention, the bark slowly seeming to part for his hand, letting him look and feel deeper, deeper, seeing all it had to offer him.

"Hello?"

The voice interrupted is concentration, the tree pushing him back out at the strong, deep sound. Ottoman Empire jumped a bit at the surprise, suddenly realizing how small he really was, how little he knew. He turned his head around only slowly, to see the figure of a man towering above him. He was a thick man, his muscles visible even though his silken sleeping shirt, his great black beard framing his angular face, onyx eyes both comforting and threatening at the same time. "Boy," he spoke again, placing his hand comfortably on Ottoman's shoulder, keeping the child from shaking. "Who are you?"

"I... I don't know, Sir." This was the first time he'd heard his own voice, a bit uncultured, soft and lulling. "I've, I've just come into being, you see. You're the first person I've ever met."

"How odd," The man looked puzzled, bending down to his knee so the two could look one another in the eye. "This may just be a dream, but... I feel as if Allah might be trying to tell me something. Tell me, do you know of Allah?"

Ottoman found himself calming down now... this man wasn't scary at all, really. He just wanted to talk. Still, that name... he thought it meant something. "The word is familiar, Sir." He tried to get the idea across, looking down to the ground and shuffling his feet. "But, I really don't know much of anything. Could you... could you teach me?" His eyes lit up hopefully, the man tightening his grip just slight, protectively, over the boy's shoulders.

"I think I'll do just that." He gave a smile, a small, hard smile, but noble. "I don't know who you are, child, but all things happen for a reason," he glanced back up at the tree, keeping the happy look on his face. "You see those rivers, those mountains? I think this dream means Allah will form me to possess them, someday. And, if you're here, I am to possess you as well." Ottoman drew himself a little closer, taking comfort in the fact that, in this strange new world, at least one friendly spirit existed. "We'll take them together, you and I. How does that sound?"

Ottoman's face turned to a rather silly grin when he heard this, wrapping his tiny body around the arm of his protector. "I'd love that!" He thought of how pretty they'd been... what fun he could have there. "I promise to help you any way I can." The man let out a hearty laugh as he pulled the boy up, Ottoman enjoying the sensation as he placed the small boy on his shoulders, carrying him away into the dreamscape.

"Well, if you're going to come with me," he chuckled to the boy, bouncing him slightly into the air, causing Ottoman to grip onto the shoulders of his shirt. "You'll need to know who I am. My name is Osman Gazi, of the Kayi. Do you have a name?"

Yes, Ottoman realized, there was something there that he recognized; a word he just wanted to attach to himself. "My name," he paused for a moment, looking up to the sky. "My name is Ottoman Empire."

With that, Osman pulled the child from his shoulders, face filled with utter glee as he planted a sincere kiss on his forehead, the cool wetness clinging there. "Ottoman Empire... yes, you are a sign. However, I will give you another name also." Osman took a few steps forward, eyes squinting in thought. " You shall be knowen as Sadik, for it will be known that you speak truly of my empire to be." With that, cradling the child in his arms, he wandered off out of his dreams, Ottoman curled up happily in his new father's chest.

And, when Osman awoke, he felt the bulk on his breast and saw the bow was still there, patting his head before gently setting him to the side, and opening the curtains of his tent to gaze on the new dawn... his dawn.

-**Meet the Nations Part II-**

The new land Ottoman Empire is coming into as a lot of interesting neighbors.

Another one of the major ones is Ilkhanate, another of Mongolia's sons and Golden Horde's younger brother. He's actually in charge of Persia for now, and bears a striking resemblance to his servant; lithe, brown-skinned, and slick features, though he ties his air in a topknot as a sign of being of the Khan. To be honest, he's not the nicest to the Middle Eastern nations, kicking them around like Golden Horde kicks around the Russian siblings, although he's generally a bit kinder to everybody else, especially considering his difficulty in keeping his house in order. He's also a bit more cultured than his brother, adopting the practices of his servants more than forcing his on them.

Not too far away,The Knights of Rhodes also are managing to cling to their island, though occasionally they've been less than successful. Very much stuck in the past, Rhodes dresses and acts like the crusaders of old did; very loud, very boisterous, pious and prone to violence, though he has a soft spot for the injured, thanks to his past as a doctor in Jerusalem's house. In particular, he bears a strong hatred towards Eygpt, but will beat up the Turkish states just as well if given and opening.

Of course, we can't forget that kid Bulgaria either. He's another thorn in Byzantium's side, who's been eating away at the old man's northern border for a long time now. A rather ambitious princeling, Bulgaria has been hardened by his viewing of the Mongolians, developing a "might is right" philosophy that he's been using to try to establish himself as the area's major power, competing with Hungary for control of the Balkans. He's a somewhat resentful teenager, with a pencil thin beard and a moppy hairstyle, walking around in mail half the time. He tends to laugh at Byzantium alot.

I wonder, what other sorts of people will Ottoman Empire meet, in the great wide world?

-To be continued

**ρώμη ****, you're back, let's drink wine! Hello μητέρα, hello μητέρα. I really have a craving for that **_**sphoungata**_** breakfast you made me long ago!**

**It's a circle, that's the earth**

**Perfect circle , that's the earth**

**Circle, circle, that's the earth. I'm called Byzantium!**

**Oh, to see such wonder, captured in a single paintbrush stroke.**

**Glory of Rome, oh, live on in me. Forever More!**


End file.
